I can resist anything but temptations.  HAHAHAHA!  Oh, you're welcome to not read the rest of this post.

Today I had my real test to avoid stuff.  It was hard, my friend, it was hard.

Yesterday was a freebie.  Sunday.  I totally made it through.

Today, I decided to test myself.  Why?  I know not.  Never the less. 

I think it's important to test yourself in a controlled environment.

My controlled environment of choice: IKEA.

Judge me not yet, reader.  You will be proud to know, I BEHAVED.  Can I get a WOOT WOOT!

There was a moment, I felt my resolve weaken, and for what you may ask?  What could bring down the incredible stuff avoiding machine? 

Dish rags.

You heard me.

Dish rags.

But then I reminded myself that I have 14,637 dish rags at home.  And even though the ones I own are old and ugly, most of them hand-me-downs from the now deceased, I reminded myself that more dish rags is more stuff, and more stuff means more laundry, and less money to eventually send me to Paris.

Proud of me?  It's only day three.  We'll see how tomorrow goes; and it's only 12-something.  Don't put all your stuff in one basket, or I might accidentally steal it.

Kelly Out

Neff Union on Strike

Generally I don't like taking "stands".

I've never been one to shout out about "organic foods" and "Wal Mart is the devil!"

You would never see this bumper sticker on my mini-van:
In fact, on occasion, I would enjoy buying things from Wal Mart for those people, and then not telling them where it was from...What can I say? Natural man is an enemy to God.

But I think I'm finally starting to come around. I'm finally starting to understand the importance of "taking a stand."

I've always thought that one person couldn't make a difference. That's because I AM LAZY. I don't want to have to make a difference.

Now that I have munchkins of my own, I'm starting to realize that my choices really do effect them, directly. Their future, especially. My grandchildren's future. My posterity.

If anything, I want them to know that I did not sit by and watch as their world was destroyed. Worse yet, that I participated.

So, I too am going on strike. Not just from "Big Mart" stores, but to stuff in general.  And I'm forcing Brett to as well.  Lucky man.  Where would he be without me? 

Those of you who know me know what a tough strike this will be for me. Tanya, am I right? Target anyone?

And to make it a bit more interesting, and to help me stay focused, I'm putting a bit of a time-limit on it. After all, a habit is formed...well, eventually.

For one month I'm not going to buy stuff. My wallet is cinched (somewhere in the world, Brett just smiled and felt a moment of relief). Feed the kids at home. Encourage them to play with toys we already have. No popcorn, gulp, at the movies. Like I said, this is going to be hard for me. No new clothes. No new shoes. Wear it 'til you bare it. Well, no one wants to see that...

I'll keep you posted on how it goes. You may be getting phone calls from a sobbing shopaholic going through withdrawals. Please don't turn her away.

Kelly Out

Love at first sight

Okay, please still watch this awesome video about Stuff, but in the meantime I need to do the "I told you so" dance to Brett.

I do not believe in soul mates, but I do believe in love at first sight. Because, I experienced it when I saw Brett. (Just ask my college roommate. I couldn't stop giggling. Entirely out of my personality. And of course, if it wasn't for Devin calling Brett on my phone the next day, I may have been too nervous to ever talk to him again. WAY out of character!)

Now scientist are getting closer to proving it. HA! In yo face husband. I'm right. Oh yeah. I loved you the second I saw you. Sucka! Wait...

Anyway, read this fun little ditty of an article.

Kelly Out

I like.

There's no handbook for this stuff

I've heard many a mother comment, "There's no handbook for this stuff." Very, very, true. But I'm learning that while there's no general handbook for raising children, you can make unique handbooks for your own.

For example, after eating a cupcake (before dinner) my daughter said, "Mommy, my belly hurts."

I said the typical, generic, "responsible mother" response.

"It's because you ate a cupcake before dinner," (which is true in my case, but I don't have a gallbladder, so I don't count.)

But this didn't help. She only scowled. So I tried this approach:

"Are you hungry?"

She swiped at me and glowered (I love two year olds).

Then I knew. I knew because I've made a little note in my "Kembry Handbook". I knew like you know a good melon.

So I took her in my arms and hugged her and said, "I'm sorry honey."

"I love you mommy."

With Cohen, it would've gone like this:

"My tummy hurts."

"Here, eat."

"Okay."

I love boys.

Kelly Out

2 Year Old Stench

We've discussed some pretty disturbing things together, reader, but nothing as disturbing as my daughters diaper.

There are times a stench unlike any you've ever encountered is wafting towards us from her tiny bum. Brett and I have full on battles debating who will have to change it. Offers like "I'll wash the dishes for the next forty years," and "You can go to Paris if you'll do it," often are tossed about.

When finally I break down (Paris people, come on), I plan for the worst. I get out fifty wipes in preparation. I have the fire hose going off in the front yard just in case. I plan on finding Brittney from the third grade, hunting her down and going to her house, to Albania, if I have to, and leave this giant stench bomb in her garbage. That's pay back. That's karma. To sum up, this girls' stench is epic.

I'm planning all of this, and with a twinge in my gut I unwrap the poor diaper that's had to endure my daughters stench, only to find...is that it? A pebble? A PEBBLE! How, how on earth could this tiny pebble of waste amount to such horror? Oh the horror.

Brett and I have dubbed these little anomalies "Nuclear Diapers". Because even the smallest of atoms, in the right (or wrong) conditions can amount to such terror as this little pebble. Disgusting.

Come back tomorrow and I'll regale you with stories of my son screaming at me from the bathroom to come and view his giant feces. I love being a mom.

Kelly Out

Surprise Visits

I love surprise visits. Especially if I'm fully dressed!

Last night we had a fun surprise visit which temporarily suspended the rodents bed time. You can't go to bed when your best friends show up! Duh! I'm not even that mean of a mom.

Plus Brett got to practice polygamy again for a minute while Cody left, leaving Brett with his wife and three children. Brett wasn't as enthusiastic as I thought he would be, though I enjoyed the prospect of having Tanya with me all the time.

Somewhere in the world Tanya just felt a cold shudder down her spine. Something horrible was just said...

Ahh, friends. Ain't nothin' like 'em in the whole wide world!

So peaceful. The entire neighborhood is quiet (or is that my earplugs?)

The kids are asleep, and I've managed to bathe all the dirt off of me from this mornings torturing, agonizing, harrowing yard work. No hyperbole people. None at all.

I've doodled and diddled some writing, not the greatest, but something. A bit everyday. Like working a muscle. Ouch, please don't talk about muscles. I can feel every single one, and that can't be right...

I've visited some family bloggeroo's and ached for childhood. I miss my cousins I never see, cousins I hardly even know anymore. Bless Brett's family for always staying close.

And now I'm watching "Deal or No Deal," tsk-tsking the greedy contestants. "Give me a penny, I want a penny." Can't you just be happy with a dollar, or a hundred even. Why always the penny? There are like 15 other good cases people. I wish they would say, "Anything but the half-million." That at least won't make the person feel too horrible about opening up a $500.

Future goal: coach stupid contestants on polite game-show etiquette.

People who don't watch this show have just switched to a different blog. I'm about to myself.

Kelly Out (not outside. Never again. Ouch.)

P.S. I bought a Mimosa Tree. I like the sound of that...Mimosa. Mimosa. Oh, the tree's nice too!

28 going on 70

How Brett ever lowered himself to marry me, when he had all these beautiful women around him, is beyond me.

But I try not to question someone else's bad decisions when they benefit me so much. President Obama anyone?

(Boy, I hope my father-in-law doesn't read this. He'd disown me.)

This last weekend was Brett's 10 YEAR HS reunion.

Many spouses of the reunion-attendees weren't super excited to be there. Like Jay here. But I was!!

Bad picture. Anyway, the SBO's did an awesome job planning. It was held at Noah's, and they had Rock Band, Ping Pong, and Casino Night. Jay and I got pretty crazy on the Craps Table.

Here is Brett rockin' out with his friend Anna (Onnuh). They're blury, you see, because they were rocking so hard their very aura's were vibrating with the sounds. Or because I can't take pictures. Probably the latter.

Speaking of Anna, she is one lucky ducky. Here I am, gambling my soul away to win a gift basket, and she puts in three tickets and wins TWO TIMES. Just goes to show, gambling gets you nothing. While not gambling gets you a gift basket from Blue Botique.

The absolute best part of the night was when Jo looked in the "special" basket and saw the "shrinking cream". She asked, innocently as can be, "Why would you want to shrink 'it'."
I could only casually reply, while surpressing my laughter, "It's for her."
"Oh!!!"
I love Jo.
I love Anna.
It was an awesome night. I wonder if I had more fun than Brett after all...

Kelly Out

I BELIEVE! Aka, for Natasha

Sometime in February I went insane and decided to remodel my kitchen. By myself. With no prior knowledge what-so-ever.

And keep in mind as you read, that I am no photographer or professional home decorator, like PW or Liz. So forgive...well, everything you're about to see.

After about a month, Brett got pretty excited too. Of course, most of the work was done at this point. So I thought.

I don't have before pictures, because, frankly, I don't ever want to see that old kitchen again. Ever. I will drown it in gasoline and burn it alive, if I must.

This is what we had left over. Beautiful red mahogany cabinets, with a gorgeous, colorful back splash provided by Scott's Tiling.

And of course, a delicious loaf of bread provided by my wonderful RL President, Sister Warner. My kids didn't know bread could be warm!

And I didn't know that one day I would love my kitchen. Warm bread and pretty kitchens used to be a myth to me. I am a believer. Hallelujah.

And yes, I appreciate the IRONY that I have three ovens and that my children have never tasted home baked bread. Ironecles, you feisty devil you.

Kelly Out